


The Snare

by darthmelyanna, miera



Series: stargate_ren [20]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Renaissance, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-30
Updated: 2008-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-01 01:31:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17234903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthmelyanna/pseuds/darthmelyanna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: In the wake of their surprising victory, the Caldorans turn to diplomacy to stall for time. But the Goa'uld are pursuing a secret agenda of their own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New fic! Finally! We apologize for the long delays. Wrangling war and peace is harder than it looks.

Three figures on horseback picked their way along the narrow road as dusk fell over the hills. Two of the men appeared almost otherworldly in the evening light, their metal armor making them appear to be more hulking beasts than anything else. Between them, the third man was smaller, thinner, and more alert than his companions. He glanced about not only at the difficult path but at the rocky desert surrounding them.

It had been some days ago now since Ba'al had slipped out of the war camp disguised as one of his own Jaffa. He had kept up the ruse even into the borders of his own holdings, wanting to see and not be seen, not yet.

The message which had come to him from the Queen of Atalan some weeks ago had warned him of the treachery of Anubis. The other lord had seized the lands of his dead lackey, Osiris, and quite possibly was attempting to take control of the territories belonging to the other Goa'uld lords who were now engaged in invading Caldora. Ba'al had determined the only way to know for certain was to see with his own eyes. Hence, he had snuck away like a thief in the night, and been forced to enter his own lands in disguise.

What he saw there kindled a rage in him the like of which he had not known in a long time. Jaffa, loyal to Anubis, patrolled the borders of Ba'al's own lands under the pretense of security. In truth, they were preventing missives from the front lines to reach their destinations, and forwarding forged letters back to the absent lords. With the communications between the lords and their servants stretched so far, it was no difficult matter to seize the messages and manipulate the information to Anubis' personal ends.

Ba'al had journeyed briefly to the edges of Apophis' territories, and found the situation the same. Now they circled around, crossing into Bastet's lands, and again saw Jaffa with the mark of Anubis on their foreheads. He could only assume the same was true for the lands belonging to Heru-ur and Yu, both of whom were also part of the invasion force. Ba'al was not concerned for his fellow lords out of any loyalty or goodness of heart. He could not withstand Anubis' power alone. If most of the lords fell, the survivors would have little hope. His primary objective now was to return to Caldora as quickly as possible and raise the alarm.

His one bit of fortune so far had been to accomplish his mission without being recognized. Now that they were away from his own territories, he left the bulky Jaffa armor off in favor of simple clothes befitting a messenger. His face was not well known here, in lands belonging to Bastet. He should be able to encounter any curious looks without fear. And the Jaffa armor was suffocating him in the heat of the high desert in summer.

The extra traveling had lengthened the trip, but the evidence of his own eyes would hopefully be enough to convince the other lords. Several days of hard riding still lay between him and the camps in Caldora. Unfortunately it was growing too dark to see clearly. They wouldn't make much more progress today.

The Jaffa in front of him halted suddenly, horse rearing and whinnying loudly. In alarm, Ba'al's hand immediately closed about his sword.

Before the Jaffa was a man, dressed simply in a tunic and trousers, holding up a hand in greeting. He seemed to be unaware of blocking the path entirely. Ba'al watched closely for a moment, a feeling of grim foreboding stealing through him.

The stranger shifted his attention from the Jaffa to Ba'al uncertainly for a moment. Then he bowed his head. "My lord."

Ba'al's blood turned to ice. No one was supposed to know he was not in Caldora.

His sword echoed as he drew it swiftly. The interloper seemed to realize his mistake immediately. His face lost its innocent look and darkened with foul purpose. The other Jaffa attempted to bring his horse up alongside his master, but the road was too narrow to allow it. Meanwhile overhead came the sound of rocks dislodging as men stepped out of hiding places. Jaffa, loyal to Anubis, flanked them along the cliff to their right.

They had walked straight into an ambush.

*~*~*~*

The tent represented everything that was wrong with the invasion of Caldora. Bright silks were swagged over their heads and adorned the walls. Golden figures of serpents, falcons, and other animals were displayed in various little corners and in every other possible place. Even the lanterns were works of art. Bastet cursed whoever gave permission for Heru-ur to put up the central tent. They were in the middle of a campaign and he had taken the time to match the colors of the silks? The fabrics only made the air inside the tent more oppressive.

She was used to the heat, even if her own lands were in the mountains, but in this accursed plain, the very air seemed to seep water. The Jaffa were falling out from prostration, and their heavy armor grew rusted in the afternoon rains. Insects swarmed thickly over the sewers, and Bastet more than once wondered to herself how they had been convinced to want to conquer such a place.

Still, they had come too far to stop now, and the Caldorans were in dire need of a lesson in humility.

"This is ridiculous," Apophis growled from his position to her left. He was looking over battle plans, hastily drawn up in the last two days. "We should go forth and end this now. If we attacked their central camp," he pointed at the map on the table, "we could overrun them with sheer numbers. The flower of Caldoran nobility is present there, along with their king. We could wipe them out and make straight for Redwater."

Apophis had suffered the greatest losses in the recent attack by the Caldorans. Of all the lords present, he was the most eager to retaliate.

"Killing the king – or better still, capturing him – would demoralize the entire country," Heru-ur agreed as he grasped another goblet of wine.

After losing a full third of their forces to the much smaller Caldoran army, Bastet was by no means as confident that they could overcome the defenders so easily. Victory would be theirs in the end, of course, but a full scale assault now would cost too many Jaffa. She herself was not in a position to waste her slaves if it could be avoided. Bastet shook her head, saying aloud, "That would still leave their princess and queen to rally the country."

Heru-ur snorted. "What could two women possibly do?"

Complete silence fell within the tent. Bastet raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for her silent message to penetrate the liquor fumes that had clouded his brain. "Ah," he finally said. "Of course, that is–"

Heru-ur's fumbling was cut off when the tent flaps were pulled back and a single figure entered the tent from the muddy path outside. Bastet and the others all looked up.

"Forgive my tardiness, my lords and lady," Zipacna of the Edenan Hills said. "I was conducting a review of my troops and only just received the message for this gathering."

Bastet nodded to him, but sneered inwardly. For all of his pretentiousness, Zipacna was little more than a minor lieutenant of Anubis' retinue. While Osiris had also pledged allegiance to Anubis, he had higher rank and prestige and had been a vocal advocate for this attack. But both Anubis and Osiris had claimed either illness or trouble in their lands which kept them from joining in the campaign directly, and thus Zipacna was there to represent the interests of his betters.

Which left the other lords in Caldora to endure the insincere pandering of a low-level toady while they coordinated the invasion. The insult rankled with all of them.

"We were debating the merits of attacking the Caldorans and overrunning them," Apophis said in a flat voice.

Zipacna nodded and joined them at the table after removing his finely-made cloak, but Bastet turned to Apophis. "It will do you no good to speak of attacking at dawn, my lord. Lord Ba'al's absence here prevents us from making such an enormous move. We must be united in this decision and a precipitate attack could very well cost us much of what we have already gained."

They had faced almost no resistance since crossing the river into Caldora until a few days prior. Small pockets of fighting had broken out, but the army had retreated miles and miles before the invaders. Mere days ago the mood in this tent had been assured and jubilant as the Goa'uld pressed unimpeded toward the capital at Redwater. Now they needed to reassess what the enemy was capable of. Much as it pained her to admit, even to herself, Ba'al's cunning was something they were in dire need of now. Apophis hissed at her, "So shall we sit here and sink into the mud while he seeks pleasure in whatever whores he brought along?"

No one knew why Ba'al was suddenly unreachable. The lord's First Prime stood guard at the tent and refused entrance to all. Bastet had considered more than once killing the smirking Jaffa and forcing her way in, but she still feared Ba'al's wrath. Also such an act could lead to open conflict among the Goa'uld, which was the very last thing they could afford now.

"I do not believe Lord Ba'al whiles his days away gorging his appetites while in the midst of this enterprise. He, unlike many others," she growled, glaring at him pointedly, "exercises control of his baser instincts."

Apophis opened his mouth to reply, but Heru-ur cut in. "How noble of you to defend him, Lady Bastet. Tell us, has he visited your bed in the hopes that you would defend him when he was busy elsewhere?"

That was the last straw. Snarling, Bastet leaned across the table. "Who do you take me for? Qetesh? I–"

" _Silence, you childish fools._ "

Everyone turned toward the last two people present in the central tent. Yu was perhaps the oldest of the coalition of Goa'uld lords, and because of that, one of the most experienced. He sat in a corner, his First Prime standing at his right hand, glaring at them.

"You sit here and squabble with each other for nothing. There is work to be done," Yu stated, his eyes raking over each one of them. Bastet struggled not to shiver. "We suffered heavy losses and cannot afford another such mistake. We cannot move forward with an attack at this time, so we must seek another option. Cease your bickering."

For several moments, no one moved, unsure whether the argument would continue with the others ranged against Yu, but finally Bastet leaned back and settled into a more relaxed stance. Apophis and Heru-ur followed suit. The old man was correct in that they could not afford to waste the day arguing over petty matters.

As if nothing had occurred, Zipacna inquired blandly, "What do you recommend, my lord?"

*~*~*~*

For Cameron and his cousin, the days following the battle were spent burying the dead. More than once Cameron had found himself with the Sodan as they honored the Jaffa who had fallen in service to their cruel masters. He was strangely drawn to this group of wandering warriors. At first they were interested only in his help in digging graves for the dead, but eventually they allowed him to stay when the bodies were lowered into the earth.

One day, at dusk, he worked up the nerve to ask a warrior about his age to tell him why it was so important to honor the dead of the enemy in this manner. Jolan had looked at him with sadness in his eyes and said, "They are not our enemies, but our brothers. We have brought ourselves shame in killing them. The only way to absolve ourselves is to honor them."

Though he had not thought it possible, the nights were more stressful and more draining. They were spent arguing with the nobility over Caldora's next course of action. Most of the lords didn't know what they were talking about. Unfortunately, Stephen Caldwell did know what he was talking about, and usually he was their principle opponent.

On this particular evening he was seated opposite the table from Cameron and John, flanked on either side by his supporters. Chief among them was David, Earl of Dixon. Cameron knew that John was more displeased with that development than he let on. It seemed like John was taking everything personally these days, including this debate.

In another life John probably never would have proposed it, but in recent days he and Cameron had been arguing with the noblemen that they should go to the Goa'uld under the pretense of offering to negotiate a peace settlement. No one, including themselves, believed that the Goa'uld would settle anything without more bloodshed. What Caldora needed most just now was more men, but second to that was time. Reinforcements were on the way, but the Caldorans needed to give them time to arrive and somehow stave off a Goa'uld assault until then. Negotiations might be a ridiculous façade, but they might accomplish such a task.

Cameron focused his attention on Caldwell, who seemed to be winding up a rant. "We forced them back and gained the upper hand," he was saying, his voice filling the tent. "Plying them for negotiations now would show them weakness and waste what we have accomplished. We cannot sit idly by and cede what momentum we have gained!"

"Do you truly wish to strike at them when they still outnumber us two to one?" John demanded incredulously. The conversation sounded quite redundant to Cameron by now. "You know as well as anyone that we cannot reproduce our attack. They will be on their guard for a surprise assault. Our only choice would be open battle on the plains, where they would have every advantage of men and supplies. No, my lord duke, we may have knocked the wind from their sails, but to confront them now in battle is madness!"

Cameron blinked at the odd turn of phrase his cousin had used. He was not the only one in the room confused and caught off-guard by strange words.

After the moment had passed, Caldwell chuckled and shook his head, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table before him. "Lord John, in the last week you have called me both mad and a fool. Which is it to be?"

John shifted, his body dangerously relaxed. "Can it not be both?"

Caldwell pushed back from the table. "That's it –"

"Enough, both of you," said the king, his voice cutting through everything. He gave stern looks around the room at all of them, but most especially to his two highest nobles.

"Lord John," Lord Maybourne interjected, "you must concede that we have little reason to believe that the Tok'ra will be here to aid us any time soon."

Cameron braced himself for an outburst from his quick-tempered cousin, but instead John sighed heavily. "I have told you already," he said, "that I have had it in a letter from Jonathan, Marquis of Neill, commander of Queen Elizabeth's army. He has no reason to mislead us."

The usual rumblings about Atalan began, though Cameron thought they had lost some of their vehemence in recent weeks. It was, perhaps, because these lords were eating meat preserved with Atalan's salt and bread baked with Atalan's grain. Or that it had quickly become established that the Marquis of Sheppard reacted vehemently to such comments. King Henry held up a hand, however, and looked John. "May I see the letter, again, Lord John?" Looking somewhat annoyed, John produced the letter from Jonathan of Neill and handed it over.

The king perused the note quickly. "And how long ago did you say this was written?" he asked quietly.

"I received it five days ago," John repeated, calming down considerably. "My understanding is that Jack went to southern Neill at the queen's order, and my best guess is that he is at one of the watchtowers in the mountains. At most, I would say this information is a fortnight old."

Jack of Neill had informed them that help was three weeks away when he wrote the letter. It was that which gave Cameron the most hope now. Even if Neill had overestimated the Tok'ra's speed over the mountains, help was almost at hand. And Cameron trusted John's judgment of the Atalanian man's character. If John believed him, so did Cameron.

Landry folded the letter up again as he stood. The congregation stood with him. "We will speak of this again tomorrow," he said, loud enough to be heard over the scraping of chairs. "Lord John, a word."

Though he had not been asked as well, Cameron followed John and the king to a corner of the tent while the rest filed out. The king did not ask him to give them privacy. "You know as well as I do that this plan of yours is like as not to fail," Landry said to John. "Madness, even compared to your last plan."

"May I point out that were it not for my last lunatic scheme, we would likely not be here to discuss a new one?" John asked, his voice dripping with annoyance.

The king narrowed his eyes. "You may not, sir."

To Cameron's surprise, John did not back down as he ought to have. Instead, he stared the king in the eye and said no words of apology. Cameron knew not what had passed between the men, but he knew that John had spoken to Landry late into the previous night. There were dark circles under his eyes, and Cameron knew that exhaustion made his cousin dangerously unpredictable.

There was a commotion at the other end of the tent, distracting all three men. Two soldiers were dragging in a third man who was wearing some sort of armor, pushing through the nobles who were trying to get out.

Reprimands forgotten, Landry, John, and Cameron all hurried forward to see what was going on. "My lord, this man has just come from the Goa'uld camp!" one of the soldiers said, shaking the arm of the visitor.

"I come with a message," the strangely dressed man said loudly enough to silence and still the room. In his hand was paper with a wax seal on it.

"Release him," the king ordered, somewhat angrily. Cameron did his best to glare at the two men who'd brought the herald in. The army, coming off such an impossible victory, was spoiling for a fight, but that was no excuse for violating such an important protocol.

At the king's nod, Cameron took the note from the herald and handed it to Landry. He unfolded it slowly, and it seemed as though everyone was holding his breath while the king read.

Then Landry looked up and addressed the herald. "Did you come alone?" he asked.

After a moment's pause, the man nodded.

Landry looked to the head of his personal guard. "See to it that one of your men accompanies this herald until he has left our camp," he said. "We would not wish anything to befall him while he is in our hands."

The captain led the herald away. The two soldiers who had brought him in followed. Caldwell, Dixon, Maybourne, and a few others began to crowd around the king. Once the soldiers were well out of the tent, Landry looked around at the men who surrounded him, his face showing confusion and disbelief. "My lord?" Caldwell prompted.

"I hardly know what to say," the king replied lowly. He looked at John. "The Goa'uld have asked to negotiate with us."

*~*~*~*

Over the distant eastern hills, the sun was rising at an agonizingly slow pace, and Carolyn of Landry was having a hard time staying still. This early in the morning, she was usually just waking up, but today she was already fully dressed, having eaten breakfast and looked over a brief summary of the day's activities, which had been compiled for her by Lord Paul Davis.

Today, though, Carolyn's mother was arriving in Redwater, and Carolyn was waiting.

It had been a long time since she had watched a sunrise from the castle, and for a moment it took her breath away. From her father's study she could see the river that flowed beyond the city. The soil in this part of the country was reddish, giving that tint to the river anyway, but now, as the sun climbed to just the right place in the eastern sky, the river ran red like blood.

A chill ran down Carolyn's spine at the image that evoked, now that nearly every able man of Caldora was upon a battlefield in the west. She prayed silently that this was not an omen.

There was a knock and she turned to see Sir Walter Harriman standing uncertainly in the entrance to the study. She nodded to him, and he cleared his throat. "Princess, your mother's party has arrived. Where will you receive her?"

"In her sitting room." The previous day, she had had the queen's chambers scrubbed clean in preparation for this.

Walter nodded once, and Carolyn watched him go. Not for the first time, she wondered how her father was coping without the man. He was attentive and dutiful, and moreover a great help in everything.

She left as well, heading to the chambers her mother had not used in the years since William's death. Truthfully, she was still a little surprised that the queen had consented to come back to Redwater at all, even at Carolyn's request.

Aurelia was removing a dusty traveling cloak when Carolyn entered the sitting room. "Carolyn, child, what is going on?" she asked. "I came as soon as I could."

"I need your help, Mother," Carolyn began, but her mother did not let her continue.

"I haven't seen you since we received news of the invasion." Aurelia waved her maids off and sat in a chair when mother and daughter were left alone. "I don't know why your father summoned you here in the first place, but why did you not come home again?"

As best she could, Carolyn strove to keep any of a dozen emotions from showing. She had assumed that someone – anyone – had informed her mother already of why she was still in Redwater. That responsibility should have been her father's, and she beat back a twinge of irritation at him. "Mother, Father left me as his regent," she explained.

Her mother was clearly nothing short of stunned. Aurelia tugged furiously at her gloves and slapped them onto the table nearby. "He has left a nineteen-year-old girl to govern the country while he is off at war," she said, mostly to herself. Carolyn tried not to bristle at her words, even though she too had thought that her age and sex would impede her authority. "Has he gone mad?"

Carolyn counted to five before speaking. "He trusts me," she said. "Besides, why else would you imagine he has wanted me to spend time here in Redwater? I will be queen someday, and I must be able to fulfill my duties as such."

She noticed that her mother avoided her gaze. "Do you plan to change history, Carolyn?" Aurelia asked. "Overturn centuries of law and tradition in Caldora and rule on your own, like the young queen in the north?"

Carolyn shook her head. "I have no desire to rule alone," she replied. "You know that."

"My child," Aurelia said, rising and looking at Carolyn again, "it seems there are a great many things I do not know."

The queen swept out of the sitting room, leaving Carolyn stunned. Perhaps summoning her had been a mistake after all.

"Mother," she called, hurrying after Aurelia into her bedchamber. "Mother, that is not fair."

Aurelia looked at Carolyn and let out a short, harsh sigh. "Why did you ask me to come, Carolyn?" she asked.

Carolyn frowned, not wanting to change the subject but knowing how intractable her mother could be sometimes. "I need help," she replied. "From someone I can trust."

"Whom did your father leave here?" Aurelia asked, turning to a table to remove her hat and caul. "Whatever his faults I cannot imagine he left you friendless here."

"Of course not," Carolyn replied. "Lord Davis and Sir Malcolm are here, as well as Walter."

"That is all?"

"The men were needed elsewhere," she said crossly. "I am not sure he could spare those three."

"That was not meant as a rebuke of you or your father," Aurelia replied.

Carolyn looked away, knowing that her temper was starting to get the best of her. "You still have connections within the court, Mother," she said. "Experience that I simply do not have. Lord Davis and Sir Malcolm know this court intimately, but they can only do so much by themselves. Father's ministers are all gone otherwise, and we agreed that you were the best hope for help now."

When Aurelia looked back again, her expression was one of sympathy, but a little pained as well. "No, you do not have my experience," she said, almost to herself.

Carolyn crossed the room then and took her mother's hand. "Will you help me, Mother?" she asked.

Aurelia cupped her cheek. "I will," she replied, "but I do not know what miracle you are expecting from me."

"That is a pity," Carolyn answered, "for I am expecting miracles from everyone now."

Her mother smiled wryly and patted her cheek. "You do have your father's wit now and then."

Squeezing Aurelia's hand, Carolyn turned to go. "Breakfast will be in a quarter of an hour," she said. "We have meetings to attend immediately after."

Her mother followed her to the door. "I'm beginning to remember why I left," she replied, closing the door behind her.

*~*~*~*

Secluded in his tent, Henry sighed quietly as he read over the brief message from the Goa'uld for the hundredth time. Despite the fact that accepting the request would give them some superiority, not being the ones supplicating themselves from the beginning, Henry was no closer to making a decision that he had been before the previous afternoon. He would freely admit that Lord John's proposal of negotiations had had merit, but truthfully he feared it would not be enough.

More worrisome was precisely why the Goa'uld were making this request. Yes, the Caldorans had inflicted a hard blow, but the Jaffa still outnumbered the army twice over. Some of the nobles were sure this was a sign of the Goa'uld acknowledging the strength and will of the Caldoran soldiers, but Henry was not so sanguine. He'd heard too much in recent weeks of the Goa'uld's tendencies towards deception. He worried there was some other motive at play that he had yet to uncover.

He wanted more time. This was true of many things in his life. He wanted more time with his son, more time to mend his broken marriage, more time to teach his daughter what he could before another man became the most important in her life. And he needed more time before his army had to stand up to a force twice the size in open battle. But there was never enough time.

Henry's thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt when one of his aides asked for admittance. Henry called the man to come in. "My lord," said the aide, "a party arrives from the north, numbering between twenty and thirty. Their banner is unfamiliar."

The north? That suggested they had come from Atalan, but even after years of strained relations the Pegasus would be recognized by anyone in the camp. The Tok'ra, having been allies more recently, also would have been identified immediately. His eyes narrowing, Henry left the tent and crossed the camp quickly. He noted the arrival of John and Stephen but quickly turned his attention to what several of the soldiers were staring at over the large field before them. Someone handed him a spyglass and Henry held it up, directing it toward the faint cloud of dust in the distance.

The group was on horseback but also had two… he hesitated to call them wagons, but that was the only word Henry could think of that could even come close to describing them. The men wore hooded cloaks, disguising their features, but when Henry shifted to catch a look at the banner they displayed, he didn't need to see their actual appearances to know them.

A hammer and chariot adorned the center of the banner and the edges were lined with various symbols, some of which Henry recognized as representations of wisdom in different cultures while others were completely foreign to him. This was a banner described only in a few of the texts that had survived the Ori purge, so Henry understood why his men did not recognize it. He himself had never seen it with his own eyes, but he knew without a doubt who had come.

The Asgard.

Henry passed the spyglass along. The days were becoming too full of surprises.

Their entrance to the camp was not a grand one filled with pageantry. Instead, a group of seven broke off from the main party and simply rode forward when they saw the signals that permitted them entrance. Henry did not miss the significance to the number of the small party. He was not the most devoted of scholars, but even he knew that the number seven was thought to have magical properties that could lead to good fortune.

John stood to his left and Stephen to his right. The marquis had been as shocked as anyone to see the banner, but Henry knew it would be best to have him close. However limited his exposure to the Asgard had been while in Atalan, that was more than anyone else in the camp had, or in Caldora, for that matter.

When the seven dismounted, Henry was struck by how small they were. On their horses, they appeared as any other men would, but now, their short stature was apparent. The descriptions of the Asgard themselves had never mentioned anything like this. He glanced at John and saw no surprise on his face.

One of the seven led the other six toward them, stopping several feet away. As one, they reached up and pulled their hoods down to reveal seven pale, solemn faces. Henry heard John inhale sharply.

The leader did not give Henry time to look at the marquis as he bowed his head and spoke. "Greetings, Henry of Caldora. I am Thor. We have come to help you."


	2. Chapter 2

Cameron was not present when the Asgard officially arrived in the camp, but he saw them soon enough. The entire group seemed so small, and each face was bizarrely similar to the next. He wondered how such uniformity had arisen.

They brought with them strange contraptions, but he did not get much of a chance to see them. The Asgard declined to stay within the Caldorans' camp, but pitched their simple tents some distance away. Seven of them went to the king's tent, with a select few of the nobles. Cameron was not invited. In the meantime, he sought out the company of Jolan of the Sodan, trying to quell his curiosity on other matters. It was rather a failure, as the entire camp including the Sodan buzzed with questions over the new arrivals. Eventually, he went back to his tent.

Several hours passed before John came away from the meeting, looking exhausted and irritated. Cameron could not contain himself. "Well?"

John settled down on the ground and sighed. "Well what?"

"What are the Asgard doing here?" Cameron demanded impatiently. "Has any decision been reached?"

"The king has chosen to accept the Goa'uld request for negotiations," John replied. "The Asgard will serve as mediators and observers."

There was a long silence, and Cameron sat down on the ground beside his cousin. "Can you imagine how Janet would react if she were here?"

John chuckled. "Once she got past her awe of them, she would have been pestering all of them with questions of health and medicine."

"Who knows? Perhaps she will have that opportunity someday," Cameron replied. This departure from Atalan seemed like a good sign to him. "I'm sure they'd get along wonderfully. She's about as tall as them."

"A little taller," John replied, still smiling. "As for why they came, I cannot say for certain but I have my suspicions."

"You don't think that queen of yours had anything to do with it, do you?" Cameron asked.

John bristled a little, but shook his head. "No, I don't," he said. "I don't know how much sway she has over them, though they tutored her when she was younger."

"Then why do you suspect they have come?"

"I wrote to Jonathan of Neill not long after arriving here." John wiped futilely at some dust on his knee. "I told him that if there was any help he could render us, it would be most gratefully received."

Cameron frowned. "But if the queen does not have that much sway over them, how would a marquis be able to bid them come?"

"I never heard the full story, but the leader of the group, Thor?" John replied. "I believe he owes a great debt to Jack."

Cameron didn't ask for more details on that subject. But the opportunity was before him to ask his cousin about something that had been troubling him for some days. "John," he said, cautiously, "do you miss Atalan?"

John didn’t hesitate. "As much as I miss my mother and father and brothers," he replied. He paused, glancing at Cameron and then looking away in frustration. "Cameron, I don't know that you'll understand this."

"Why not?" Cameron asked quietly.

John seemed to be dwelling in painful memories. "I lost everything here. In Atalan I was accepted. It wasn't without reservation, especially once my identity came to light, but those people put their faith in me. The– they gave me a reason to stay."

Cameron narrowed his eyes. "Why were you hiding your identity?"

John snorted. "I had no desire to be associated with Caldora, especially not in Atlantis."

That statement left a strange, hollow feeling in Cameron's chest. He had always thought that the men of Sheppard were proud of their heritage, proud of their country. John had never been an exception. The king, in a moment of weakness, had been unjust to him, but had not Caldora made John into the man he was? Was that not a part of his very being?

Cameron could feel that there was a great deal John was leaving unspoken, but he didn't press the issue. John had been more forthcoming in the last five minutes than he probably had been in the last five years. "I'm glad you're home, John," he said softly.

John got to his feet and didn't meet Cameron's eyes. "This isn't home, Cameron," he said tersely. "This hasn't been home in sixteen years."

John moved away before anything more could be said. Cameron was left still sitting on the ground, stunned. He wasn't sure what he'd expected out of this conversation, but he wasn't expecting this.

* * *

Carolyn had one constant in life at the moment: Walter Harriman. Every day was an endless but unique series of meetings to attend and fires to put out. The only thing that kept the young princess and regent sane through the mess was her father's secretary, steady and dependable. Every once in a while she would wonder why her father had not left Walter in charge in the first place. Sometimes it seemed like he was doing more of the governing than she was.

They were between meetings one morning when Carolyn yawned suddenly. Walter looked at her in concern. "Princess, are you all right?"

She shook her head and yawned again, this time covering her mouth. "Lord Davis and Sir Malcolm and I were all awake far too late last night," she replied. "We were formulating a report for my father."

She managed to stifle a third yawn, and just in time. Two viscounts of southern districts, Sean Grieves and Calvin Neumann, had come up to the open doorway and were glancing at the royal guards situated outside the office where Carolyn was conducting business. When Carolyn looked up, they bowed to her, and she beckoned them in.

One was holding a thick sheaf of paper that promised all manner of headaches for Carolyn, she was sure. "Gentlemen, good morning," she said.

"Good morning, Princess," they said, almost in unison.

"What brings you here?"

Neumann shifted almost anxiously, lifting the papers he held. "As you know, my lady, a shipment of supplies arrived from Atalan."

Carolyn could detect a note of disdain in his voice at speaking of their northern neighbor. She shared the sentiment, but ever since the invasion had brought with it the revelation of her father's contact with Queen Elizabeth, she had resolved to suppress that as much as possible. At the moment, she turned her thoughts to the caravan of winter wheat that had arrived from southern Atalan the previous day. The harvest on the other side of the mountains seemed to have been plentiful.

It was not the only caravan to arrive in recent days, of course. To Carolyn's great surprise, men from Iolan had come, bringing food and salt, as did their Atalanian allies, but also bearing a considerable number of swords, bows, and arrows. Carolyn had sent the entire caravan west to the army, marveling at their arrival and wondering if Elizabeth of Atalan had had something to do with that as well.

The other man cleared his throat. "That is to say, the wheat and other supplies must be rationed out to the various provinces."

"And you two have taken it upon yourselves to draw up a plan for dividing everything up?" Carolyn asked.

"We were involved with it the last time a caravan arrived," Grieves said. "The others whom we worked with that time have joined with the army now."

Repressing a sigh, Carolyn held out her hand for the papers, which were passed over reluctantly. "My lady, if you have more pressing matters, you might give us the signature we need now and allow us to take care of this ourselves," Neumann said. "I assure you, this is strictly routine."

"And I assure you, my lord," she replied, "that nothing in this country at present is strictly routine." She set the papers aside. "I will return this to you when I have had a chance to review the scheme."

The two men nodded and took their leave, and Carolyn attempted to turn her attention back to the task before her. "What do we know about them?" she asked Walter idly.

"They're both married," Walter replied, not looking up.

"What?" Carolyn said, her tone a little sharp.

He looked up at her then, his eyes wide and his face getting red. "Oh, forgive me, Highness," he said. "I meant that they are unlikely to have some ulterior motive where you are concerned."

Carolyn nodded, but she also frowned, looking at the papers they had left. They had very much wanted her to sign off on their plan without actually looking at it, and that did not sit well with her. "I'm not so sure of that, Walter."

When it was time for dinner, Carolyn took the distribution plan with her, intending to look it over while waiting for the food to be brought. Her mother and Lord Davis arrived to find her poring over it, frowning again. "Carolyn," her mother said, "is something wrong?"

Belatedly Carolyn remembered how much her mother had always hated her father's tendency to bring paperwork to the dinner table if he was especially busy, but this was different, she told herself. "Lord Davis," she said, "did you give instructions to Neumann and Grieves to draw up a plan to distribute the winter wheat that arrived yesterday?"

"Of course not. That was your duty, not mine." Davis cast a puzzled glance at the queen.

"Nor I," she said. "I take it they have brought you one?"

Carolyn nodded. "They said they were involved with it the first time we received supplies from Atalan."

Davis sighed heavily and came up to the table, first holding out a chair for Aurelia and then sitting on Carolyn's other side. "They were involved with the physical distribution and nothing more," he said. "Doubtless they remember some of the details, but your father had possession of all reports of lack in the country, not them. I had intended to direct you to that information this afternoon so that you could draw up a distribution plan."

"The attempt to help me is laudable," Carolyn said, carefully, "but I do not feel that I can trust them. When they presented me with the plan, they seemed uncomfortable with the idea of me reviewing it before approving it."

The food was brought in before any answer could be given to Carolyn, but after they had eaten dinner and the dishes were cleared, the three of them sat at the table and began searching through the papers she had brought. Barely a quarter of an hour had passed before her mother said, "I've found it."

"Already?" Carolyn asked, incredulous.

Aurelia held out a sheet so that Carolyn and Lord Davis could both look at it. "By this plan, both Neumann and Grieves will receive significant shipments of wheat to their provinces," she explained. "Such a thing would hardly be necessary. Wheat is the principle crop in both provinces, and they have had good harvests, both last fall and with this year's winter wheat."

Carolyn didn't immediately process the significance of this, but thankfully Davis did. "They're planning to mix the Atalan wheat in with their own," he said.

"And sell it for pure profit," Carolyn finished, understanding at last. "An ingenious plan, some would think."

"They intended to prey upon your own ignorance of these matters," her mother said, in a matter-of-fact tone that Carolyn did not appreciate. "It is good that you brought this to us."

Carolyn opened her mouth, but decided to hold her tongue. Part of her wanted to point out that it was good that her mother still knew so much about the practical workings of the country that she could recall at will the chief products of a province not even bordering the one where she spent all her time. But more pressing was drawing up a real plan for distributing the supplies from Atalan, not to mention figuring out how to punish two viscounts for their presumption of her gullibility.

* * *

The Caldorans had stalled the arrangements as long as they dared, and when the time finally came to meet with the invaders, Henry adopted a confidence he hardly felt and walked across the strip of earth to the tent erected by the Asgard. It was situated at equal distance from the two armies' encampments, which was the closest they could come to neutral ground in this place.

As expected, the strange, short Asgard priests sat at the head of a long table. Henry led the Caldoran delegation to one side, where they stood and waited. A few minutes later the Goa'uld lords entered the tent. There was a minor scuffle at the doorway, as some of the Goa'uld appeared to have brought personal servants in defiance of the Asgard mandate that only the nobles who functioned as leaders be present.

Once the Asgard had repelled the uninvited guests, the Goa'uld lords lined up across the table from the Caldorans. Henry recognized Apophis, Bastet, and another man who he believed was Heru-ur, while two other men filed in whom he did not know. At the far end, though, nearest to Master Thor, was an older man with a long mustache whom Henry remembered glimpsing briefly many years ago, Lord Yu. Rumored to be the oldest among the living Goa'uld lords, he immediately gave Henry the impression of being a tough old bastard, and the one man in the room he didn't want to cross.

Master Thor spoke briefly, reminding everyone in the room of the requirements laid down by the Asgard before beginning this mediation. Though the small priest's features were difficult to read, it seemed Thor was irritated with the Goa'uld for the stunt with their servants. Henry wondered how long the legendary patience of the Asgard would hold in the face of these discussions.

The Goa'uld were given primacy in speaking, because they had called for the negotiations in the first place. That hadn't sat well with a number of the Caldorans. As the invaded country, many of them felt they should have the right to address the assembly first. But now they sat silently as Apophis rose to his feet.

"The immortal lords of the Goa'uld here assembled offer thanks to the noble Asgard order for agreeing to oversee this mediation," he said, with just a flicker of contempt in his gaze when he glanced at Thor and his companions. Thor merely blinked his wide eyes.

"We also wish to recognize the courage and resiliency of the people of this land, who have fought and died so bravely in defense of it. The Caldorans have acted with honor in the face of great peril and overwhelming forces."

On Henry's right, Stephen shifted slightly in his seat.

Apophis glanced at his fellows. "However, we wish the lords of Caldora to understand this meeting was not called as an act of capitulation on our part, but to offer King Henry and his leaders a chance to spare their people any more losses."

Here he paused, probably for dramatic effect. Henry was irritated enough to interject, "Our losses, my lord, have not been nearly as grave as those we have inflicted."

Apophis glared. "Perhaps not in men, but our armies are encamped over half of your country. And it is no secret that your people have not the resources to replace lost soldiers easily."

Henry could feel his own face clouding with anger. On Stephen's other side, Maybourne spoke up. "Which does beg the question why your graces would bother with invading a nation that could not provide you spoils commensurate with the effort and blood it cost to gain even this much."

Apophis took the bait Maybourne offered him. "Our goals in this action were quite simple. We were informed that Caldora was massing an army against us." He spread his hands. "The Goa'uld were merely acting to protect themselves."

"What?" John demanded incredulously from Henry's left.

Henry was having nearly as much trouble controlling his own temper. Apophis smirked at them, mocking their anger and the impotence of their fury.

Thor intervened, tapping on the table. "The purpose of this meeting is to discuss conditions for ending this dispute, not to begin arguments regarding how the present situation came about." He fixed Apophis with a harsh gaze. "You should begin by stating your terms."

Apophis nodded, glancing briefly at Lord Yu. "As I was saying, having proved that we would not be cowed by Caldoran intimidation, it is our intention to protect our easternmost territories from any further threat. The Goa'uld will retain possession of the lands we have now conquered and divide it among the lords who have mounted this army." Apophis stared at Henry, almost daring him to speak. "The lands from the old border to the Otero will be yielded to us."

Stephen sputtered and John's jaw dropped into his lap. Henry clamped his mouth shut so tightly he drew blood from his own tongue. Only Maybourne remained calm, which was one of the reasons Henry had brought the man along.

"The people of Sheppard will never submit to a Goa'uld as their master," John said, his voice almost a growl. "Just because your army has swept forward does not mean you have conquered the people or the land you have merely passed by."

Bastet spoke for the first time. "Perhaps, but we are the ones with the men and resources to hold these lands, and you lack the supplies to retake them."

John began to speak again, but Thor cut him off. "Enough. A proposal has been laid on the table for consideration. Your Majesty?"

Henry's every instinct was to spit in the face of these bastards, but he caught the steely glance of Lord Yu, and a warning look from Maybourne. He must remember their purpose here. He swallowed, hard. It galled him. It galled him immensely, but he gritted his teeth and replied, "I will need to consult my advisors before I can respond to this request, Master Thor."

Thor inclined his head. "Very well. We shall adjourn then until King Henry has had sufficient time to consult with his men on this matter."

The Caldorans left first, since they had been first to arrive. None of them spoke until they were in the privacy of Henry's tent, ignoring the frantic curiosity of those they passed along the way. John and Stephen, for once oddly united, burst into a litany of angry ranting regarding the Goa'uld's demands. Ceding half the nation! It was unthinkable.

Henry shared their fury but he forced himself to focus on Lord Maybourne. His personal dislike of the man and distrust of his morals was, ironically, what made him the best person to witness the negotiations. Henry hoped that Maybourne would read more into the situation than he could.

Maybourne was sipping a mug of ale and ignoring the ranting of the others until Henry leaned forward in his chair. "Well?"

Maybourne waved a hand. "I am left curious about only one thing."

"Which is?" Stephen asked, somewhat belligerently. Maybourne's placid demeanor was a bit irritating, especially mixed with the superiority the man was exuding.

Maybourne raised his mug, and raised his eyebrows at Stephen. "Was I the only one who noticed the remarkable absence of Lord Ba'al?"

* * *

Returning to Redwater, for Aurelia, meant resuming the social duties of a queen, though war had curtailed them to some degree. Most of the men were away, meaning that when Aurelia dined with a larger group, there were generally only women present. Her daughter had no difficulty navigating the noblewomen who were currently in residence at Redwater, which made things a little easier for Aurelia herself. She'd always disliked having to put up with the banality of gossiping tongues.

On one evening, however, when they were to dine with the Marchioness of Medinah and the Countess of Dixon, among others, Carolyn was several minutes late. The bread was already being passed around the table before she arrived, wisps of hair having fallen around her face and her cheeks a little flushed. "Forgive me, Mother," she said, sliding into the empty chair. "I was long in discussion with Lord Bradley's aide and did not note the time."

"It is no matter, Carolyn," Aurelia replied.

While Carolyn filled her own glass with wine, the servants brought in the main course. The only course, Aurelia reminded herself. When Carolyn had suggested to the nobles in Redwater that they ought not use up so much of their limited resources themselves when the men at the front were in need, many had balked. But Carolyn had remained firm in the idea, and anyone who ate at her table ate only what he needed, not what he wanted.

Truthfully, Aurelia had been a little surprised by how her daughter had handled that. When she was a girl of nineteen, she had not possessed such delicacy.

Carolyn was rather quiet as the lamb was served. Around the table the women were discussing the quality of the food and the spices used in its preparation. Inwardly, Aurelia laughed. These women were no more cooks than soldiers, but she had little doubt that the conversation would soon turn to the war in the west.

Some of the women were more informed than others. David Dixon wrote frank letters to his wife, Juliana, but while she clearly had a strong idea of what was going on in the army, she was wise enough to hold her tongue in certain company. That was more than could be said for Lady Gwendolyn Pierce, whose husband had the good sense to write little of substance to her, but that did not stop her from prattling away as though she knew what she was talking about.

It was at the end of one of Lady Gwendolyn's near-hysterical ramblings that Lady Juliana cleared her throat. "Well, I think we can all agree that the army has done very well for itself," she said. "With any luck we will all be in our own homes again before the summer is over, but if not, I have always observed that women are quite capable of managing affairs. We will do as well as we can for ourselves."

Aurelia opened her mouth then to change the subject, but the Marchioness of Medinah spoke first. "That is all well and good, Juliana," said Lady Isolde, speaking more familiarly than the countess would probably like, "but it is not our place, and I for one hope that things will be back to normal as soon as possible. I find it shameful that the king has left the governance of the country as he has."

It took a brave soul to speak out against the king in any respect. In this respect, before both the queen and the princess, it was foolishness. "Isolde," Aurelia said, trying to inject the word with as much reproof as she could.

The marchioness took no regard. "It is not a woman's place to rule, even in times like these," she said forcefully. "Were there no men who could be spared to serve as regent? The king left a child to fill his place!"

There was a time when Aurelia had expressed much the same thought about leaving Carolyn in particular as regent, but for now she wanted to laugh. In the years she'd known her, Aurelia had thought that Isolde wanted to be one of those wives who led their husbands around by the nose. Her husband, though, was hardly a man who would permit that treatment, and Aurelia had long thought that Isolde made up for it by crowing over the other noblewomen with her virtues as a dutiful and model wife.

"It will give the girl ideas," Isolde continued, as though Carolyn was not sitting there at the table herself. "Already she has refused a number of suitors, and why? Has her father's diplomacy with our northern neighbors produced a desire to take the crown for herself?"

"Marchioness," Carolyn interrupted softly, dangerously. The room fell silent as all the women stopped eating to focus on what was about to happen. Aurelia herself did not know what to expect.

Isolde took a moment to respond, setting down her fork. "Princess?"

"One would think you are privy to a great deal," Carolyn said. "Tell me, how do you come by such knowledge? Does your husband speak to you thus?"

Aurelia watched carefully, but Isolde was not foolish enough to implicate her husband in this dispute. "No, my lady," she said. "I speak my own mind."

Carolyn wiped her fingers delicately on her napkin and set the cloth aside. "Then there is something I wish to tell you," she replied. "I would not wish you to continue in such misconceptions."

Isolde nodded once, seeming perfectly respectful. Aurelia had always thought her something of a chameleon. "Of course, my lady."

"My royal father left me in his place from a genuine belief that I would serve him and our country well," Carolyn said. "If you disagree with him, you are of course free to take up the matter with him. If you like, I can broach the subject for you when I next write to him."

"That is not necessary," the older woman replied, her cheeks flushing a little.

Carolyn nodded. "I did not think so," she said. "As to the matter of my marriage, or rather my refraining from marriage, it is not from a desire to be queen regnant someday."

Seated at Carolyn's left hand, Lady Juliana looked curious. "Princess, if I may be so bold," she said, "why have you not married? You cannot claim you have had no opportunity."

"I do not marry for myself alone," Carolyn answered smoothly, "but for all of you, and for your husbands, and for your children. I must choose a good king first, and then a good father and a good husband. That is not a decision I will make simply because others feel it is time for me to be married. For Caldora's sake, I will not settle."

Juliana seemed satisfied with the answer, and Aurelia had to admit that she too was impressed with how her daughter had handled Isolde's spiteful comments. Carolyn had dealt with the marchioness gently and gracefully, while yet leaving Isolde with a firm impression of her own readiness for the task.

Aurelia had not seen the kind of king her husband had become since William's death, nor had she seen what he was trying to teach their daughter, but at last, she began to understand. Henry was making Carolyn into a queen.

* * *

The confrontation with the marchioness during supper had left Carolyn simmering. The woman’s shrewish statements had made her want to confront the woman directly, but she had reined in her temper and retaliated in a manner that no one could find fault with. Still, that did not mean that Isolde’s comments had not rankled.

Carolyn had also not been able to sleep much. Her thoughts had dwelled on Isolde’s words and wondered just how many others shared them but were not foolish enough to present them at her own table. She wondered if her mother also agreed that Carolyn should not have been left alone to run a country in the midst of an invasion.

Eventually, she forced herself to think on more immediate matters. It had required some thought, but by morning Carolyn had determined a method of dealing with Grieves and Neumann. While a public dressing down before the entire assembly would be very effective, she decided that a quieter meeting would suffice for now. Regent though she was, Carolyn did not wish to assemble the remaining lords unless so ordered by her father or by extreme necessity.

She took up residence in the study her father used for private audiences, summoning the two nobles to attend her. Walter stood nearby, his presence nearly unnoticeable.

Carolyn studied the expressions of the two men when they entered. She could see the hints of anxiety, though they managed to conceal most of it. With effort, she smiled at them. "Thank you, my lords, for coming. I have reviewed your proposal for the distribution of the Atalanian grain supplies and have a few minor questions before I sign it."

Grieves glanced at Neumann. "Of course, your Highness. We would be happy to assist you in whatever manner possible," he said. Carolyn credited him for keeping his voice from shaking.

She nodded and looked down at the papers. "You say here that the capitals of both your provinces require seven thousand pounds of the wheat each."

"Indeed, my lady," Neumann spoke up. “Our people are in great need of bread.”

"I see. I admit my inexperience in matters of food distribution, my lords, but I do believe my tutors found my knowledge of our country's geography to be more than satisfactory. Wheat is the primary crop in that part of the country and the fall and spring harvests have been more than sufficient." Carolyn paused and looked up at them. Both men had lost what little color they had in their faces. She resisted the urge to gesture them into the nearby chairs.

"I, that is," Neumann stammered.

"Gentleman," Carolyn cut him off, her tone discouraging both lies and excuses, "do you mean to tell me that you were unaware of the produce of your own lands?"

Neither man answered, just stared at her. After a moment, she continued. "It would have been within my rights to take this before the entire assembly for scrutiny," she informed them coldly, "but I chose not to pursue that option. However, if such a blatant attempt at stealing food from the mouths of our soldiers and our people should ever occur again, I will not hesitate to bring up charges against you."

"Y-Yes, Highness," Grieves stuttered. Both men bowed and turned, intending to flee the room.

"I did not dismiss you." Carolyn's voice could have frozen water. Slowly, they turned again to face them. "If you have urged any of your friends to take advantage of my inexperience, I suggest you now dissuade them otherwise. Any other such attempts will not be tolerated and will be brought to the assembly's attention, along with your own. Now get out of my sight."

She watched them both rush out of the room and sighed, leaning back in the chair. Discovering Grieves and Neumann's little scheme had not proven difficult, and while her mother had been the one to catch on, Carolyn was certain that had she not been there, it still would have been uncovered. Perhaps through asking Davis or Walter about the plans, but it would have been found.

Nevertheless, the queen had far more experience in these kinds of duties than Carolyn. Perhaps she had assisted the king in the past with them, though truthfully, Carolyn did not care overly much. The tension and avoidance of duty that had been routine for her family since William's death had gone on long enough. She needed to speak with her mother.  



	3. The Snare (3/3)

>The day after the Goa'uld's most unreasonable request that the Caldorans give up half their country, the parties returned to the negotiating table, where King Henry flatly refused. The Goa'uld expressed their anger, but the Asgard dismissed them all until a new offer could be made. A few days passed before Thor came to the king to tell him that the Goa'uld had another request to be heard.

Though the Caldorans watched the roads approaching from the north and east, there was not a sign of the force of Tok'ra who were supposedly coming to their aid. Whether something had befallen them or John of Sheppard's information had been wrong, no one could say. But each day the Tok'ra failed to appear sapped a little more strength from the army, as they saw constant reminders of how far outnumbered they were by the invaders. Hope was beginning to fade, and no one knew what would happen when King Henry could no longer prolong the negotiations.

Stephen Caldwell entered the tent directly behind the king. The Goa'uld lords were already there, still standing. The Caldorans came up to the table, and once the Asgard had formally announced the purpose of the session, everyone took a seat, except for a woman among the Goa'uld.

Bastet was tall and slender, with dark hair and olive skin. Her gown was rich and sumptuous, and Stephen found it rather hard to believe that she had been allowed to come to the front in the first place, let alone with the wardrobe she seemed to have brought. She was festooned with baubles and bangles, none of which would help them win this war.

"My lord," she said, nodding gracefully to Landry. "Since you have refused our previous attempt to end this violence upon your people, we of the Goa'uld have decided to make another offer. We can only hope that this one will be more palatable to you."

Landry said nothing, but sat back in his chair and stared at the woman expectantly.

The muscles in Bastet's neck twitched, and Stephen was reminded of a cat deciding whether or not to pounce. The lady decided not to, evidently, but moved onward. "While your resilience in this campaign is laudable, I do not doubt that you will agree with this: you have not the resources to continue if this campaign extends much longer. The generation that should have been leading the defenses this time is gone. After all, the last time a superior force crossed the Mearali River, the Caldorans laid down their arms and did the bidding of their new masters."

Stephen stiffened, but it was John of Sheppard who responded. "We did not come to hear the shortcomings of a dead dynasty," he bit out.

Lady Bastet turned her head swiftly, the beads in her elaborate headdress jingling as she did so. Slowly, she gave Sheppard a smile that was almost obscene. She spoke to everyone on the Caldoran side but still stared at the marquis. "You are in need of protection," she announced. "The immortal lords of the Goa'uld are willing to offer it to you, for a price."

"Let me guess," Stephen said, drawing her attention away from Sheppard before the younger man could burst out again. "You wish a substantial portion of our wealth, our harvests, and our livestock?"

"A quite reasonable portion, I assure you," Bastet said smoothly. "We would also require you to provide us workforces from time to time, to work our farmland and mines, as well as serve in the army for the defense of your own nation."

"In other words," Maybourne said, "you want to pillage our resources and our population, which are doubtless the reasons you invaded us in the first place."

"We invaded to preempt whatever action you were planning against us!" she replied indignantly.

"Enough," said Thor, from his place at the head of the table. "As I have said to both sides already, the purpose of this meeting is not to assess the reasons for the invasion." After a long stare at Lady Bastet, he turned his attention to Landry. "King Henry, what have you to say to this new proposal?"

"I have no need to discuss it with my noblemen," he said, rising and staring at Bastet. The other Caldorans got to their feet as well. "Caldora will not prostrate herself before you."

He turned and left. Stephen followed after quickly, as did the other lords, heading to their own camp, not looking back.

They convened again in their usual meeting tent. Even the king looked somewhat lost for words, and Stephen sat silently as he tried to figure out what precisely had transpired.

Across the table, Sheppard was leaning far back in his chair, one foot up on the empty seat beside him, and he was slowly twirling a knife at his eye level. "Am I the only one with the urge to test their claim of immortality?" he drawled.

After a moment of tense silence, there was some thin chuckling from the group. "No," said the king, "but it would hardly be helpful."

Sheppard just shrugged.

Landry smiled for a moment and turned his attention elsewhere. "Stephen, what do you think?"

"Something is not right here," Stephen replied, shaking his head. "These demands they have made are ridiculous. They knew we would not cede half the country to them, and as Lord Maybourne rightly pointed out to that woman, they are now asking us to hand over everything they would have won had their conquest been complete." He paused, rapping his thumb against the tabletop. "This may sound insane, but what if they're stalling?"

Maybourne nodded. "I have wondered that myself."

"You mean, what if they're bluffing their way through these negotiations to buy themselves more time?" Sheppard remarked dryly.

"Sheppard," Landry chided. He turned back to the others. "What reason do you have to suspect that?"

Stephen glanced down the table. "I believe Lord Maybourne could be right in placing such importance on the absence of Lord Ba'al," he said. "We beat them badly. That must have made them nervous. Perhaps they're waiting for Ba'al to return before they make their next move."

"But why?" Sheppard asked.

It was a fair question. If Ba'al had left the Goa'uld war camp, surely he had designated a second to act for him. And where would the Goa'uld have gone in the midst of an invasion of a foreign power? Somewhat chagrined, Stephen replied, "That I do not know."

* * *

  
Carolyn could perceive no reason why, but her back was aching by the time she was done for the day. Word of her censure of Grieves and Neumann had been traveling about the court as quick as lightning. Davis had told her during dinner that there seemed to be a palpable change in the court's attitude toward her, and that despite her youth and gender she was garnering a great deal of reluctant respect from the lords of the assembly.

Rubbing the back of her neck with one hand, Carolyn entered her mother's sitting room. Even though days had passed since her mother's arrival, it was still strange to see these rooms occupied. She wondered what her father would say to the current situation in Redwater, but instead of the familiar wistfulness, Carolyn felt a flicker of temper.

Her mother was seated at a table, writing rapidly. She barely looked up when Carolyn entered. "Is there something you need?" Aurelia asked.

"Nothing specific," Carolyn replied, sitting down at the other side of the table. "It has been a long day."

"Lord Davis told me of your censure of Neumann and Grieves," Aurelia said. "I am glad you found a way to deal with the situation without bringing it before the assembly. I doubt that would have gone well."

Carolyn nodded, absently staring into space. "It was good that you so quickly found their method of collusion."

"It was not difficult. They chose the most obvious hiding place. You will have the experience to recognize that kind of thing before long."

Carolyn said nothing, thinking once more of how well-suited her mother was for the role of consort. Even though she was foreign-born, she had an excellent sense of the politics of Caldora, leaving Carolyn to wonder how she justified her long absence from the court when she could have been so useful to her husband.

"I believe your father could have chosen no one better to rule in his place now," Aurelia continued. "You know I was skeptical at first, but there is simply no one who could have handled this situation as gracefully as you have."

Carolyn pursed her lips slightly and nodded. "The experience has been valuable for me," she admitted.

"How so?"

For a moment, she considered making up some trifling explanation, but instead she told the truth. "I know now what it will be like when I am queen and my husband is away." There was a faint change in her mother's expression, one that should have warned Carolyn from going further, but these things had gone unspoken for quite long enough. "Mother, how much longer will you stay away?" she asked.

"I came back when I was asked, did I not?" Aurelia snapped.

"You came back when _I_ asked," Carolyn countered. "Would you have come as readily had Father asked?"

"Carolyn–"

Carolyn simply shook her head. "William's death was hard on all of us, Mother," she said. "But Father did not have the luxury of grief in your manner."

"Carolyn," Aurelia repeated, this time sharply.

She backed down immediately. "I am sorry, Mother."

Her mother did not answer her directly, but took up her quill and continued writing. "We are to dine with Lady Juliana again tonight," she said. "I suggest that you go and prepare yourself."

Carolyn nodded and turned to go. But when she reached the door she paused, staring at the ground before her. "Mother, he needs you," she said quietly.

She did not intend to wait for a reply, but her mother stopped her with a single, quiet word. "Carolyn."

Carolyn turned once more to her mother. "Yes?"

The queen looked hesitant, little like her usual confident self. She opened her mouth once or twice before speaking. "Do you truly believe that?" she asked.

"More than ever," Carolyn replied earnestly. "These recent days have shown me beyond a doubt that a ruler must have a companion, someone whose role in his life is not consumed by the chaos of the crown."

Aurelia set her quill aside. "I do not know that you can understand this."

"I can try," Carolyn offered gently, slowly coming back to sit at her mother's side.

There was a short pause as the queen seemed to gather herself. "I never asked to be in this position," her mother said with a sigh. "When I married your father, he was merely a younger son. Then he became the earl and I the countess, and when the assembly named your father as king, you and your brother and I had little say in the matter. Henry's sense of duty... You and William were young enough that the change in our circumstances did not upset you much. But I knew what this meant for me."

When Aurelia stopped, Carolyn stared at her, wondering what this had to do with her absence from Redwater. "What did it mean, Mother?"

"That for better or worse, Caldora was home now. Rulers do not often leave their countries except for reasons of state, and given the distance between Caldora and my country, it was unlikely we could take a chance of traveling there." She bowed her head. "I knew I was unlikely to ever see my family again. I know that this is the fate of most women of our station who marry far from home, but it still hurt."

Carolyn said nothing for several minutes. She had never known of her mother's sadness when her father took the throne. William had only been nine at the time and she not much older. It was strange how much she had missed during those turbulent times.

"What about when William died?" she asked softly. Carolyn was uncomfortable, but she knew that all of this needed to be said. The air needed to be cleared. "Why did you just leave?"

Aurelia closed her eyes, and Carolyn saw that her mother was near tears. The queen grasped her daughter's hand tightly. "Carolyn, heaven forbid you ever lose a child in such a way," she said in a broken whisper. "I cannot imagine that any death is easy to bear, but this was too much. William's body was barely cold before the men of this wretched court began tormenting your father and me on what we would do with our heir now dead."

Not long ago Carolyn would have been stunned to hear of such callous behavior from the nobility of Caldora, but the recent days had taught her precisely how much selfishness and how little tact could be shown by these men. Now she was less surprised than disgusted.

Her mother swallowed hard. "I could not bear it," she said. "I could not bear the pity or the politics, so I left."

Carolyn's own eyes began to water. She had been too absorbed in her grief to see what was happening to her parents at the time.

Not knowing what else to do, Carolyn laid her free hand over her mother's. "I am sorry for what I said."

Aurelia gave her a brief but genuine smile. "You are a good girl, and a dutiful daughter," she said. "Someday you will be a better queen than I have been."

It was not a promise of change now or ever – far from it. But all the same, it made Carolyn hope.

* * *

  
Not since he attained the status of Lord of the Goa'uld had Ba'al been this exhausted. During the vicious wars with the other lords, even for the duration of the bitter struggle against the Ori, he had at the least been able to retire to his own chambers and enjoy basic luxuries such as a bath and hot food.

It had been so many days since he ate a full meal, he could no longer count them. Hunger cramped his stomach and sharpened the angles of his face unnaturally.

The wound on his thigh throbbed an insistent rhythm with every step, but since escaping from the assassins in the hills, rage had fueled him. He had ridden mercilessly to cross the Mearali and then through the night until he was within sight of the Goa'uld war camp. He passed almost unnoticed at first, just a dirty messenger from home, perhaps. It was not until he glared at his own First Prime that the servants realized who he was.

He took only the time to down a goblet of water and listen as his Jaffa informed him of what had happened in his absence: the defeat at the Otero, the return of the Asgard to Caldora, and this despicable supplication to the Caldorans. All of these things were complications they could ill afford now. He did not know how he would disentangle himself from this chaos without losing everything.

However, his first task was to inform the other lords of what had been going on behind their backs. And he had no time to waste.

The Asgard, strangely tiny, were guarding the entrance to their tent. He suspected it was only the presence and deference of his own First Prime at his shoulder that allowed them to recognize the mud and blood-spattered man as a Goa'uld lord. Reluctantly, they nodded him inside.

He drew up, concealing his fatigue and fury with years of practice as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darker interior.

There were the other lords, staring at him in surprise and, in Bastet and Heru-ur's cases, disgust. Yu was inscrutable as ever. At the head of the table sat one of the Asgard priests, dressed in simple robes that made the ostentation of the nobles on both sides of the table look gaudy and pathetic by comparison.

And there were the Caldorans. He raked them over with one look. King Henry was aged, with the somewhat paunchy look of a man who had been fit once in his youth but whose prime was long past. On his one side was a slightly younger man who resembled a bull, with a bald head and the figure of a warrior. Next to him at the end was another older man with a crafty face, who regarded Ba'al's entrance with something akin to surprise.

At the king's other hand was the only young man on the Caldoran side. He stared, as did his king, in confusion at the intruder.

The Asgard rose – which was barely noticeable, the man was so short – and stared blankly at him. "My lord, you are?"

Falling back on his practiced charm, he bowed slightly. "Ba'al, Lord of the Goa'uld. My apologies for my late arrival, my lords. I have only just returned to the camp." There was no sense pretending. It was patently obvious that he had been riding hard and long from the dirt and stench on his clothes.

He was welcomed stiffly by the head priest, and Yu gave an imperious nod towards an empty chair near the wall. It rankled slightly but he took it without reaction.

The discussion resumed after a few more moments of stunned silence. "My lords, Lord Heru-ur was in the process of delivering a proposal."

Heru-ur shook himself from his stupor and turned back to the table.

Ba'al settled himself in the chair, listening with half an ear and taking stock of the situation. Heru-ur droned on about the borders between Goa'uld lands and Caldora. The current proposal, from what he could gather from the objections being voiced by their enemies, involved the removal of troops from along the western border of Caldora and the demolition of all watchtowers, all the way into the Mearali pass in the mountains.

Ba'al ground his teeth. These mindless fools were nattering about watchtowers? He could not begin to imagine what would lead the collected lords of the Goa'uld to simper before these common men. The great defeat at the Otero should have pricked the warlords into attacking the remnants of Caldora's army with their full force, wiping them out. Instead, here was Heru-ur, bartering with the inferior king of a half-dead country like he was purchasing fruit in a marketplace.

Had conditions been different, just such an attack would have been his first impulse. But his perilous trip home had proved to him how little time was available, if the lords of the Goa'uld intended to remain lords of anything at all.

The negotiations had to end and swiftly, that much was clear. But the presence of the Asgard and their magics and contraptions meant this must be handled carefully. If the Goa'uld broke off discussions with no cause, it would be bruited far and wide that they had violated the hospitality and mediation of the Asgard. The powerful little priests would then summon heaven only knew how many others to the side of Caldora, as well as putting their own support behind the beleaguered king. The Goa'uld would face dangers from both before and behind. He could not have that.

He focused again on the Caldoran noblemen in the tent. The bull – the bald one on the king's left – was responding to Heru-ur's proposals with barely concealed contempt. The king watched the Goa'uld with his saggy face but there was some fire still in his eyes. Apparently the man was not burned out just yet.

Ba'al focused on the young man, whose jaw was tight as he glared silently at Heru-ur. He was dressed in dark colors, a symbol upon his tunic that Ba'al didn't recognize. But Ba'al knew the crest on his sword’s seal. Anyone with eyes would recognize the winged steed of Atalan.

Ba'al made it his practice to know of the gossip circulating in the courts of the various nations. He had spies and informants in every place, not just among his rival Goa'uld's holdings. There had been stories from Atalan last winter of a handsome young knight who had rescued the princess and subsequently become a favorite of the new queen. The stories about the prominence given to the stranger by the monarch had taken on a new flavor when the young knight was revealed to be Caldoran by birth.

Could this man possibly be the Caldoran exile? The one the rumors held to be young Queen Elizabeth's lover?

Ba'al himself had wondered at the truth of such speculation, given what he knew about the queen and in particular about the men who had raised her. But the fact of Elizabeth's preference for the man's company had been undisputed.

A plan began to form in his mind.

Patiently he waited as Heru-ur and Apophis parleyed back and forth with the Caldorans regarding the borders, pushing the frustration in the room higher and higher. The young lord finally spoke, addressing Apophis, "We have a right to protect our own borders, my lord, a right which none shall take from us."

"If I may interrupt?" he said smoothly, before Apophis could respond. The Asgard blinked slowly once, which seemed to indicate permission. He turned to the Caldoran. "If terms are arranged here between your people and the lords of the Goa'uld, what need would there be to guard the western borders of this land? Unless you have reason to fear that Atalan will invade through the mountain passes at will." He smirked slightly, noting the way the young man's eyes flashed with irritation.

"We have far less to fear from Atalan than from you," he snapped at Ba'al.

"You speak with authority, my lord. I take it you know the country?" He nodded at the sword.

Ba'al could practically see the man gritting his teeth. "I have been there."

"And you have met the queen?" he pressed.

"Yes." There was thunder in the single word, a warning any man in his right mind would take to tread carefully in mentioning the woman in question. Ba'al was not out of his mind, but he was desperate.

"I have had that honor as well. In fact, I did Queen Elizabeth a service some years ago, when she was still queen-elect, of course. She expressed her deepest gratitude for my aid at the time." This was stretching the truth near the breaking point, but the deepening scowl on the man's face said clearly he didn't know that. And the insinuation dangling under the words was biting at the lord. Ba'al kept his voice languid and his smile firmly in place. "I suppose her Majesty did not speak of such things to a stranger, though. Unless..."

He noted the way the lord's fingers were digging into the chair as he paused for effect. He pierced the man with a look. "I had heard that a Caldoran had found himself in the, shall we say, good graces of the young queen in the north? Despite the objections of her own court and advisors, the... _warmth_ of her affections led her to ignore all warnings about propriety? I confess I had thought the story nothing but a scandalous rumor–"

He got no further, for the Caldoran leapt up from the table and grasped his sword. He was trembling from head to foot. His voice was not the hysteria of a prideful nobleman but the deadly intent of a man who had spilled blood before and would do so again. "You will hold your lying tongue, or I will do the job for you, my lord."

Even as he sneered the last words, his own king was on his feet, bellowing, "Lord John!" The other Caldorans and Goa'uld rose and joined the fray, and the Asgard called futilely for order.

Lord John was restrained and the Asgard swiftly threw the Caldoran delegation from the tent for the outburst, effectively ending the negotiation, at least for the moment. Ba'al's satisfaction with his handiwork fled, though, when the head priest turned on him. Although the short man's expression had barely changed, Ba'al felt a sinking sensation as he looked into those dark eyes.

"Lord Ba'al, my name is Thor. I am friend to Lord Jonathan of Neill and I had the honor of tutoring Queen Elizabeth when she was still a child. Speak of the queen in this manner again, and you will find yourself in a situation you shall find most uncomfortable indeed."

In retrospect he could admit his plan had not perhaps been ideal, but every minute was precious, and Ba'al merely nodded towards Master Thor and led the way out of the tent. Behind him the other Goa'uld lords grumbled at his back, but he knew they, at least, would shortly have far greater concerns than punishing him for spreading gossip.

* * *

  
Bastet was furious by the time the Asgard mediators ended the negotiation session. Ba'al's actions, from his abrupt entrance to his taunting of the Caldoran lord, had thrown everything into chaos. She could hardly keep her composure as she and her fellow lords stormed back to their tents. He had been absent from the camp entirely! In the midst of an invasion, he had wandered off to no one knew where and concealed it from the rest of them. Her imagination called forth all manner of schemes and plots the treacherous lord could have been putting into motion while they waited stuck in the wet and the filth of this wretched country, afraid to make a move without him.

The moment they were alone, she let loose her full fury. "What were you thinking, you _fool_?" she demanded, her tone shrill. "You have been absent all this time, not a word of your intentions or whereabouts and now you appear, looking like this and barge into a delicate negotiation! And then, blatantly insulting the Caldorans, goading them to the point of–"

"There is no time for that," Ba'al cut her off. "There are far more important matters to address than this little squabble with Caldora."

"Really," Apophis said, stalking towards the other lord dangerously. "And just what would those matters be?"

Bastet expected Ba'al to lash out at the snake lord, or to at least unleash his sharp wit, but all he did was glare. For the first time, his appearance truly registered for her. Ba'al was a handsome man, but now he was gaunt and hollowed. That he was covered in dirt and what appeared to be blood and had clearly not bothered to clean himself should have signaled her that something extremely strange was afoot. "No," he snarled at Apophis in a terrifying voice. "I speak of keeping our lands under our own control."

Silence fell in the tent. Yu stood off to the side, watching them with his arms crossed. Apophis and Heru-ur stared at Ba'al incredulously, while Zipacna, who had kept his congenial expression throughout all of the excitement, now suddenly appeared disturbed.

"Osiris is dead," Ba'al continued flatly. "Murdered by his wife, who is long gone. This places his lands into Anubis' hands."

"Impossible," Apophis spat.

Ba'al regarded him calmly. "I have seen the evidence with my own eyes, my lord. When I returned to our territories to discover the truth, it was Jaffa loyal to Anubis who killed my own guards and nearly ended my life."

That explained much. Bastet saw immediately what he meant by more important matters. Osiris, while one of Anubis' tools, had still kept his territory independent of his master's control. His lands were not vast, but they still held a great deal of importance in terms of trade between the other territories. If Anubis had claimed them for his own, then the balance of power had shifted enough that it required their personal attention at once.

"How is it that we did not know of this earlier?" Heru-ur asked suspiciously. "I receive updates frequently from my holdings–"

"Did you not hear me? Anubis is controlling the routes in and out of Goa'uld territory," Ba'al interrupted. His eyes were dark, wrathful. "Anubis is playing us for fools, occupying our attention with an invasion into a country that does not have resources worth conquering, while he plots and moves his own people into key positions. I would not be surprised to learn that this was his aim all along. He and Osiris conspired to push the rest of us into this war and then conveniently neither of them were able to join us."

Bastet had harbored such suspicions herself, and she would have been surprised if Apophis and Yu, at least, had not held similar thoughts. But the reports from their own retainers had indicated nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, the reports had been notably bland for some weeks now. She cursed herself for not noticing earlier.

Ba'al continued. "It is also most convenient that Osiris' wife should choose this moment to betray him. It could be she was in the service of Anubis, acting on his orders. It would be a small matter compared to what he has done to the rest of us."

"This is ridiculous," Zipacna finally interjected angrily, drawing their attention to Anubis' representative standing among them. "My lord Anubis has ever been your ally, and now you repay him with such insults? I–"

Bastet watched as Ba'al's hand went to his sword. "Be silent!" he bellowed. "Do you think I am unaware of your part in all of this? Play the little lordling, keep everyone here no matter the cost while your master takes our lands for himself?"

Either stupid or foolish, Zipacna whined at Ba'al, "I am here doing my duty to my lord, overseeing the troops he sacrificed for this great cause and ensuring our full cooperation."

Ba'al took a step forward. "And spying on our efforts and machinations faithfully every step of the way. My First Prime told to me that he caught you in my tent not three days before Anubis' Jaffa nearly took my head. You breached my Jaffa and reported to your master that I was not here."

"What? Preposterous!" But Bastet noted that Zipacna's eyes darted towards the entrance to the tent. Her hand stole towards the dagger hidden at her waist. His denials only cemented her conviction that this fool had been party to Anubis' betrayal from the beginning. They had been stupid to allow Zipacna's prancing behavior to blind them to his true nature. Rage began to simmer in her heart.

"None of the other lords gained entrance to my tent in my absence," Ba'al retorted. "It could only have been you."

Lord Yu stepped forward, towards Zipacna. "Is this true?" he growled.

The other lord looked near to panic. "No! He lies!"

Yu thundered, "You _dare_ to lie to me, boy? I have played this game far longer than you have. You conspire against us, and defile our meeting with the Asgard?"

"What did you think we would do to you when we discovered your duplicity?" Apophis demanded, turning to stand alongside Ba'al.

Zipacna's face contorted into a sneer and he withdrew a blade from the sheath at his side. He spat out a curse at them, which was enough to enrage them all. "Stupid, arrogant fools! My lord is cleverer than all of you combined! He will seize control of all the Goa'uld lands and then conquer at will. He will be greater than any monarch in all of history, and you will be nothing but dust and bone."

He raised his sword to strike at Yu, but Ba'al hit first, his blade sliding smoothly into Zipacna's side. The traitor twisted, attempting to bring his sword around, but Apophis had drawn his own weapon and with a fierce stroke severed the sword and hand from Zipacna's arm.

Bastet closed around the man with Heru-ur. Her dagger plunged into his back, a fitting gesture for this lying scum. Zipacna staggered and Heru-ur shoved the dying lord onto the floor, where he gurgled and writhed for a moment before going still.

They stepped back, wiping off their weapons, glaring at the lifeless body on the ground with contempt. Dealing with the traitor was the easy part.

"Come," Ba'al broke the silence. "We have much to discuss."

* * *

  
The sunset that evening was stunning. Clouds streaked the western sky, tinted pink and grey against a red backdrop. In the east, stars were already beginning to appear in the growing darkness.

John was standing just outside the farrier's workspace, having shed all but his tunic and trousers. He'd forgotten how stifling even early summer was in his homeland. He never thought he would miss the climate of Atlantis, even the bitterness of winter, but the heat was oppressive. Knowing that the entire Goa'uld war camp was now amassed within sight only added to the misery. And the absence of the Tok'ra gnawed at him. John was certain Jack had been truthful, but the Tok'ra had not come yet and John felt sometimes that the entire camp was glaring at him, blaming him for the disappointment of their hopes.

But perhaps it was the events of this afternoon that made him long to be anywhere else just now.

King Henry had not blamed him for losing his temper. Ba'al was clearly baiting him, for reasons none of the Caldoran lords could fathom, but since coming back to Caldora, John had found it almost impossible not to jump to Elizabeth's defense, or defense of his own conduct where she was concerned. He would not soon forget Ba'al's taunting words, nor the rush of anger they ignited in him. It was made all the worse by the fact that his very sensitivity on the subject would probably only add fuel to the spurious rumors about his relationship with her. But he could never sit idly by while anyone cast aspersions on Elizabeth's character.

He turned and watched the farrier shoeing Silvanus, trying not to think of Elizabeth and failing miserably. If he closed his eyes, he could see her kneeling before her cousin, taking the vow of the monarchy, her expression of pure freedom and abandon that morning on the _Queen Margaret_ , the sparkle in her eyes as she laughed at something he'd said...

The pain in her eyes when he left her, right after he'd lost control of himself and kissed her.

The urge to leave and ride north as hard as he could was not lessening, but he had responsibilities here. Elizabeth would never forgive him if he abandoned his people. He would never forgive himself. Caldora was facing another battle, one the army was not ready to fight. After what had occurred during the negotiations today, it was entirely possible that the Goa'uld would seize this as a reason to break off the discussions and launch an attack.

They would overwhelm the Caldorans with numbers, and John suspected they would leave few alive. John had faced death many times in his life, but even his old dreams of seeing his home and his family again during the Ori war paled in the fierceness of his wish to see Elizabeth just one more time.

He heard footsteps, and turned to see Cameron approach him slowly. "What brings you here?" his cousin asked.

"New horseshoes for Silvanus," John explained, nodding at his stallion across the way. "Thought I'd beat the rush."

The younger man paused for a moment. "We're facing another battle, aren't we?" Cameron asked lowly. "Head to head, and soon."

"Two to one." John sighed. "Cameron, if the end comes for me–"

"Don't," Cameron interrupted sharply, recoiling. "You defied fate twice to return home to your people. I do not believe that these filthy snakes can defeat you."

"Cousin, I am not a god," John said, somewhat incredulously. "If I die, I die, and Sheppard is yours."

Cameron subsided a little, though his defiance of that sentiment was still plain. His expression turned sober. "The battle will be upon us before the end of the week," he predicted.

Not knowing how else to respond, John simply said, "Yes."

"The Tok'ra will not be here by then, will they?" Cameron asked, a pain in his voice that made John wince. For all the skill his cousin had shown in the last few weeks, he was still younger and less experienced than John, and it hurt to see the truth break his spirit thus. "We staked everything on the arrival of the Tok'ra, and yet they do not come."

Slowly, John turned and faced north. In the far distance he could make out the dark shapes of the mountains. He ran his hands through his hair. "They are coming, Cameron," he said sadly. "I still believe that."

John saw his own hopelessness reflected in his cousin's eyes as Cameron replied, "But not soon enough."

"No," he said. "Not soon enough."  



End file.
